


Little Secrets

by LaBelladoneX, PotionChemist, smithandbarrowman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Mutual Pining, Secrets, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23964856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelladoneX/pseuds/LaBelladoneX, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionChemist/pseuds/PotionChemist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithandbarrowman/pseuds/smithandbarrowman
Summary: Friends help friends out, right? But what happens when that friendship is put to the test?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 82
Kudos: 381





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coyg_81](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyg_81/gifts).



> A quick little birthday story for our amazing friend and cheerleader coyg_81. 
> 
> She is one in 7 billion and we would be lost without her encouragement, her hilarious comments, and her friendship xx

* * *

“So I’ve decided that I’m going to marry Blaise Zabini.”

Hermione’s head snapped up, looking at Ginny in shock. “Does he know?”

Grinning, she shook her head. “Nope. Not yet. But I think he’s just what I want. He’s good-looking, flirtatious, and _so_ much fun. Unlike Harry stick-up-my-arse Potter.”

Internally, Hermione groaned. She didn’t want to hear another long rant about how Pansy Parkinson could have Harry since he was a ‘rubbish lay’ and the ‘most boring man who ever lived’. Ginny’s grapes were sour; she’d thought she and Harry would be married right after her final year at Hogwarts and she’d be living the highlife at Grimmauld Place. However, six months ago, her planned life had been turned on its head, and she still wasn’t coping well. 

It was no secret that Harry had broken up with Ginny because of her jealous, borderline obsessive behaviours. Most people had hailed their relationship as ‘a real life fairytale’ or ‘a dream come true’.

But Hermione knew different. 

Ginny was spoiled, and Harry found it less and less appealing as time went on. Since she was the youngest of seven, and the only girl, the whole Weasley family had doted on her and she expected everyone else — especially Harry — to do the same. 

When his Auror career had taken off, she quickly became frustrated with the amount of hours he was working. Anytime he would go out for dinner or drinks with co-workers, she would pout for days if he didn’t invite her. And when he did, she made sure she was the centre of attention, dressing provocatively, and draping herself over Harry like she was going to hike up her skirt and shag him in public. Even though everyone knew Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were an item, she felt the need to mark her territory — for lack of a better term.

“Ginny, you know I’ve remained friends with both of you. Don’t talk to me about Harry,” Hermione said, realising she’d waited too long to answer.

Ginny glared. “I didn’t even say anything bad. Just that Harry is all work and no play, and you still take his side!”

“I just said I don’t want to talk about him. How is that taking his side?” 

Rising from her seat, Ginny said, “We’re _girlfriends_! You’re supposed to let me bitch about my ex! You’re not supposed to tell me to stop!”

Hermione looked up. “Gin, you know very well that I was Harry’s friend before I was yours. I’m not going to let you badmouth him to me.”

Throwing two Galleons down on the table, Ginny replied, “Well, I guess we’re not really friends, huh? If I can’t talk to _you_ about Harry, who can I talk to? It’s not like anyone is on my side in this!” 

While Ginny walked away, her head bowed and red hair bouncing behind her, Hermione groaned. She knew she had to warn the group about Ginny’s plans for Blaise.

As soon as Hermione stepped through the Floo at Grimmauld Place, she could hear Harry and Pansy talking in the other room, likely standing at the top of the stairs that led down to the kitchen. The sound of her name prompted her to pause.

“—Theo would be perfect for her, Harry! She needs to find someone serious to settle down with, and he’s definitely the best choice. They’re interested in a lot of the same things and he’d certainly treat her well!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Theodore Nott was just as much of a misogynistic arsehole as Ron had been. 

Harry’s voice rumbled. “Pansy, I don’t think Hermione is looking to settle down anytime soon, and she’s different from your lot. I don’t mean that in a bad way, but she’s ambitious. She wants to have a career, and that’s part of what caused the split between her and Ron.”

A smile spread across Hermione’s face. Her best friend knew her so well, and she loved that he didn’t just cave to his girlfriend’s suggestion immediately. Hermione was happy that Harry saw what she did in Theo — a man who would want her to give up everything she’d worked so hard for to stay at home and have his babies, only brought out as a trophy when he needed a pretty little piece of arse on his arm.

“I don’t care what you say, Harry. A first date doesn’t mean they have to get married! Though I think it’s a strong possibility! I’m going to talk to Theo and encourage him to ask her out. I don’t really think she’d be all that interested in someone like Blaise.”

At the mention of Blaise, Hermione remembered why she was at Grimmauld Place. She had to stop eavesdropping and start walking. Loudly. She might even stomp her feet to get their attention.

When Harry and Pansy heard the movement, their conversation ceased. Hermione made her way up the stairs and hugged them both in greeting.

“I’ve just managed to piss Ginny off royally,” she stated.

Pansy waved her hand dramatically. “Details, Granger!”

Hermione explained the conversation and she could see the hurt on Harry’s face. Even though he was much happier with Pansy, Ginny had been his first love, and it hadn’t been easy for him to end things with her. Hermione was sure it was even harder for him to hear that she was still struggling, albeit behaving in the same selfish way that had destroyed their relationship.

Pansy noticed his sad expression and wrapped her arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “You’re not boring, Harry. She’s just being a spoiled little cunt as usual. She didn’t get her way, so now she has to act like she never wanted you in the first place.”

After kissing his girlfriend on the forehead, he looked towards Hermione. “So now she wants to sink her claws into Zabini?”

“She does,” Hermione confirmed. “She’s probably imagining a lifetime of lounging at his Italian villa eating gelato and going to fashion week in Milan.”

Laughing, Pansy replied, “Well, that will _never_ happen. She won’t be getting near any of my friends in a romantic capacity. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Hermione nodded, silently agreeing. She didn’t want anyone as affable as Blaise being sucked in by Ginny’s false charms. Also, everyone knew that Blaise Zabini loved beautiful women, and there was no doubt that Ginny easily fit into that category.

Harry suddenly grimaced, running his free hand through his messy hair and tugging at it. “Fuck. I invited the whole Weasley family to my birthday party.”

Seeing the look of anger on Pansy’s face, Hermione stepped back. While Harry and Pansy were in love, their arguments were passionate and usually resulted in accidental magic.

On top of that, the rows were basically foreplay to these two. Before the fight was fully resolved, clothes would start flying off and hands would start wandering, no matter who was around at the time.

“You did _what_?” Pansy narrowed her eyes at him. 

As soon she started to glare, Harry said, “I couldn’t invite everyone _but_ Ginny. That would’ve been incredibly mean.”

The lights in the room started to flicker and a crack spontaneously appeared in one of the window panes as Pansy’s fury mounted. “Who gives a flying fuck how she feels? Did you consider how I’d feel about you inviting your ex-girlfriend?”

“Uh, guys… Before you really get into this, can I ask you a question?” Hermione asked awkwardly.

Pansy’s head whipped around. “What, Granger?”

“I’m thinking I should warn Blaise sooner rather than later if they’re going to be seeing each other at Harry’s party…”

“Well, fucking obviously! I don’t want her near him, and clearly it’s unavoidable now!” Pansy replied and Hermione scurried out of Grimmauld Place, the sounds of an argument brewing behind her. 

She was just happy to have made it out of the townhouse alive and still ignorant of what Pansy looked like naked.

* * *

Blaise nursed his firewhisky in both hands, watching the ice cubes slowly melt into the soothing liquid. Had it really come to this? Trading one best friend for another called Ogden? 

_Ah, don’t be so fucking selfish._ He frowned at his own pathetic thoughts. 

He hadn’t lost his best friend _per se_ . Draco was in love, and deservedly so. After all the shite he’d been dealt in his young life, he now had a chance to break free from the confines of his title, his inheritance — _his father_ — and live the life he yearned for with the woman he was so enamoured with. 

Charlotte Bailiwick was the Features Editor for the Daily Prophet, having recently been promoted to the job following the retirement of the previous editor, Cantankerous Pussmaid II. The loss of _The Tank_ was not so much a blow to the newspaper, but more the best news the staff had ever received. And now, with morale at its highest and no more violent outbursts to deal with, the newspaper was a joy to work for. 

She was tall and slim, with plum-coloured straight hair that passed her shoulders and a fringe that could cut through steel. Occasionally she wore glasses that gave her a studious look, but her eyes held a mischief that revealed her wicked sense of humour and boisterous personality. Charlotte may have had a name that signified royalty and elegance but there was nothing she loved more than a pint down the Leaky on a Monday evening with the pub’s skittles team and a takeaway afterwards. 

Prior to her promotion, Charlotte was assigned to interview Draco for, yet another, Most Eligible Bachelor spread. She had no interest in doing so — preferring to report on much more interesting topics, like Quidditch and home-brewing — and tried several times to swap her assignment with her fellow writers, Parvati Patil, Susan Bones, and Zacharias Smith. But they’d already refused the task, citing overdue features and non-existant interviews. 

So Charlotte, who was a few years younger than her colleagues and had been homeschooled in London, had to face the wizarding world’s most eligible bachelor instead. And, having no filter — a result of her working class upbringing and her unwavering belief in getting to the point — her first question to her interviewee floored him. 

“Women fantasise about you making love to them—” Draco tried to look as if this was a chore “—men want to be you—” again he shrugged his shoulders in a pathetic attempt at self-deprecation “—yet my colleagues all avoided this assignment like the plague. My research shows you’ve atoned for your past yet it still haunts you. So, Draco Malfoy, what exactly do you think you’re still doing wrong? Because, as my investigations have proven so far, you’re certainly not doing anything right.” 

He had been stunned by the abruptness of her approach and, as the interview went on, she had managed to wangle more personal information out of him than anyone had ever done before. Charlotte burrowed her way in and kept digging until Draco had spilled the beans about his first kiss (Theodore Nott, we were brewing Amortentia and he claims he got a bit high on the fumes), his favourite childhood toy (a cuddly green and black dragon called Mr Blazey), and a secret about him that no one knows (I _may have_ read the Muggle book series, Twilight). 

Within the space of an hour Charlotte Bailiwick had ripped him apart, rummaged around inside, and haphazardly put him back together. By the time the interview was over, Draco was torn between never wanting to see her again and shagging the living daylights out of her. She was a force to be reckoned with, similar to a certain Gryffindor he’d always secretly admired but knew his best friend fancied just that little bit more.

With the interview over, Charlotte stood up to leave, proffering her hand for Draco to shake. The moment they touched, he knew. The invisible sparks that ignited the air around them were electrifying and Draco found himself asking her to dinner that evening. 

She refused. 

He laughed, not used to being turned down. He was, afterall, Wizarding Britain’s Most Eligible Bachelor. Witches did not refuse him. 

Charlotte Bailiwick did, however. Three times.

But a week went by and, eventually, she had to relent. Parvati’s allergies were acting up due to the amount of flowers taking up their office space, Susan was suffering terribly from constipation as a result of eating the majority of chocolates Draco had also sent to Charlotte. As for Zacharias, well, she had no words. So, for the sake of her friends’ health — and possible mental well-being — she agreed to dinner. 

Blaise smiled to himself as he ordered another whisky, recounting Draco’s first gushings about the woman who had captured his heart. That particular dinner had been three months ago and now he had a best man’s speech to write, thanks to a very impatient Draco and a head-over-heels Charlotte. 

He wondered what it would be like to feel such passion, such a desperation to spend the rest of this life with one person, to love them more and more each day until they both travelled beyond The Veil. 

If he had a choice of any witch in the wizarding world, he’d choose Hermione Granger. Who wouldn’t, right? Intelligent, fearless, ambitious, not to forget fucking stunning. Any wizard would want her. But, surprisingly, no one had her. Blaise figured Draco would have swept in post-war, all remorseful and oozing that Malfoy sex appeal he seemed to possess in buckets, but he never did. He always reckoned there was a little fire burning under Draco’s cauldron for the swotty Gryffindor when they were at school, maybe he was wrong. What he _did_ know was that his own fire had never fully burned out. 

Ah, well. He stepped down from his bar stool and retrieved his jacket from the seat beside him. Time to head home.

* * *

“Granger?” 

She was sitting on his stoop, reading, looking up with a smile when he spoke. 

“Finally,” she huffed, closing her book and standing. “I’ve been sitting here for over an hour.”

“Sorry?” Blaise was uncertain why she was even there, but felt an apology was necessary.

She flapped her hand at him and shoved the book in her bag. “We have a situation. I’m not pleased about it and I’m sure you won’t be either. Can I come in?”

“Uh… sure.” Blaise was rarely at a loss for words, but she was there. At his house. Wanting to go inside.

He opened the door and ushered her in, leading her down the long hallway into the large, open living area at the rear. Her gasp had him smiling; the entire back wall was glass and the view over London at night was spectacular. 

“How do you ever leave this place?” She stepped up to the windows, wide-eyed with disbelief.

“Well, it doesn’t pay for itself.” He stood beside her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have to earn the Galleons, which means leaving.”

She glanced up at him, a sly smirk on her face. “So, you’re not one of those entitled, rich, pureblood kids?”

“Far from it. My mother spent the family fortune the second my grandfather passed. I got a small inheritance which bought this place but, like yourself, I have to work to pay the bills.”

“Sorry.” Hermione winced. She’d only been poking fun at him, and she suddenly realised she didn't know an awful lot about Blaise Zabini.

“Not your fault, Granger.” He turned and headed across the room, stepping behind the small wet bar. He held up a bottle of amber liquid. “Drink?”

“Thanks,” she said with a nod, reluctantly turning away from the windows. 

“So, we have a situation?” Blaise asked, moving across to a leather armchair, handing Hermione her drink before he took his seat. “That sounds… terrifying.”

Hermione sat on the sofa, tilting her glass to him. “You're not far off. Ginny Weasley has it in her head that she’s going to marry you.”

Blaise stared at her, open mouthed, his glass frozen in mid-air. “She… marry… what?”

“Yep,” Hermione said. “That was my reaction.” 

He swallowed half his drink in one go, wincing at the burn. “I don’t even know her. Well, I don’t know her other than her name, and that she’s loud and spoiled.” 

“Then you know her,” Hermione replied with an exaggerated eye roll. “And once Ginevra Weasley makes up her mind about something, she won’t give up until she gets it. And you, Blaise Zabini, are apparently what she wants.”

“But I’m not interested in her.” 

“She won’t care. She wants you, and she’ll do whatever it takes to get you.”

“Fuck.” Blaise emptied his drink and _Accio’d_ the bottle to him, refilling the glass. “So how does this make it a situation for both of us?”

“Well, Pansy is of the belief that Theo is the one for me.” Hermione drained her own glass, and Blaise leaned over to refill it. “And Theodore Nott is far from what I’d call _the man for me_. He’s Ronald Weasley, take two.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I’m still not sure how this brought you to my doorstep… Wait! How _did_ you end up on my doorstep? You never knew where I lived.”

“Oh, _ah_ , a mutual friend told me.”

“Draco?” 

Hermione nodded, “I hope you don’t mind. I sent him an owl as soon as I learned what Ginny had planned. She’ll no doubt make a spectacle of herself at Harry’s birthday. She’ll hate not being there as his girlfriend, so she’s bound to try and take the attention away from him. And you are her target.”

“I don’t understand why she’s like she is. The Weasleys are good people… a little old fashioned, but nevertheless good.”

“They are,” Hermione agreed. “She’s the first girl to arrive in the Weasley family in generations and the entire family has spoiled her.”

“Well, I’m _not_ interested in her.” Blaise shook his head. “How the hell do I get out of this mess?”

Hermione smiled. “Well, I have no interest in Theo, and you are almost having a heart attack at the thought of Ginny Weasley chasing you, so… we have a mutual dilemma that we can help each other fix.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning, Mr Zabini, you and I can act like we’ve been seeing each other secretly.”

Blaise’s jaw dropped open again. “Say what?”

Hermione laughed. “We can pretend to be together. Turn up at Harry’s birthday together, all gooey eyed and in love. We’re both smart, we can make it work. What do you think?”

Blaise drained his glass again and stammered, “I, _ah…_ well, that’s certainly… something.” 

“Is it something you think we could pull off? I mean, we’d have to spend some time together before the party, get to know each other and all.” She was looking at him hopefully. She didn’t want Theo Nott pawing at her, just the thought made her want to bathe in disinfectant. “I think we can do it. And we could pretend for a few weeks after — just to make it believable — and then split because it wasn’t working.” She flapped her hand in the air, missing the flinch in his expression. “Come on, Blaise, it’ll be easy.”

He stared at her for the longest time, and her heart sank. He wasn’t going to do this. He thought she was mad, and he was probably right. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. She’d just have to tell Theo to sod off herself. 

“I’ll do it.” He finally said in a voice so quiet she barely heard him. 

“Really? You’ll do this for me… well, for both of us?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll do this for you.”

* * *

“Mate, you look like shite. Drink?”

Blaise glared at his best friend as he stepped out of the Manor’s main fireplace. 

“Fuck you. And yes, please.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Seriously, Draco? How you managed to obtain all those NEWTs I’ll never know.” Blaise took the proffered tumbler with a nod, knocking back its contents in one go. “Do you honestly think I’d be here on a Friday night at—” he glanced at his watch “—almost 11pm, if I _didn’t_ want to talk about it?”

Draco held his hand out for the empty glass and took it back to the drinks trolley. “Well,” he sighed heavily, reaching for a large bottle of vintage mead. “It looks like we’ll need the good stuff then.”

He joined Blaise by the fireplace with the bottle in his hand. “If you’re going to drink like a fish, I’m sure as shit not getting up and down like a fucking yo-yo to refill your glass. Sit. Spill.”

Blaise lowered the second glass just as quickly. “I’m fucked, mate. Royally fucked.”

He sat down in the nearest armchair and leaned back, his eyes closing as the warm liquid soothed his jagged nerves.

“Hermione came over this evening,” he began, blindly waving his glass for another top-up. 

“Ah, yes,” Draco interrupted. “She contacted me earlier, said it was important. Since it was Granger, I didn’t think it would be a problem giving her your address. Anyone else, I’d have sent them to Filch’s hovel.”

“You know where Filch lives?”

“Shitterton.”

_“‘Scuse me?”_

“It’s in Dorset.”

“How… no, nevermind. I don’t want to know.” 

Blaise shook his head, leaning forward to take his third drink from Draco. Not that he was counting; getting smashed drunk was definitely on the cards.

“So… Granger,” Draco hinted, settling back on the couch. By the look of his best friend, they were in for a long night.

“She came to talk to me about Ginny Weasley,” Blaise continued. “And… well… we discussed fake dating and—” 

“Whoa! Back up!” Draco’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re fake dating Princess Weasel?”

“No. Hermione.”

_“Granger is gay?!”_

“No, you fucking arse! Will you please shut up and let me explain?”

Draco blinked a few times to erase the sudden invasion of some rather erotic images. In the normal course of events he’d stow them away for further analysis at a more private time but, if Charlotte found out he was picturing Granger and the Weaselette getting it on, he’d never wank again. Basically because he’d have nothing to wank with. 

“Sorry, Blaise. I’ll shut up.”

Blaise took a deep breath and started over, explaining in detail what transpired during Hermione’s visit. 

“So…” he concluded, rubbing his weary eyes with the thumb and index finger of one hand whilst hinting for another top-up with the other. “In order to get Ginny off my scent, Hermione and I are going to pretend to be dating until Red gets the hint and fucks off.”

Draco shivered. The thoughts of getting stuck with Ginny Weasley was enough for anyone to seriously consider joining the Hermetic Order of the Boo Radleys and never see daylight again. 

“Okay, let me see if I have this right.” He raised a finger for each point he made. “One. Ginny Weasley has you in her sights.”

“Correct.”

“Two. You have no interest in Ginny Weasley.”

“Fuck, no!”

“Three. Hermione is trying to avoid being set up with Theo.”

“Correct.”

“Four. Hermione has no interest in Theo.”

“This is getting boring.”

“I’m slow. Work with me.”

“I need more drink.”

“Five. Hermione has offered an out for you both in the form of fake dating.”

“And we have a winner.”

Draco leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. “I don’t know what your problem is, mate.”

Blaise gasped. “Are you fucking serious? It’s a fucking massive problem!”

“Not really,” Draco replied casually. “You’ve been madly in love with Hermione Granger since we were at school. Now’s your chance to do something about it.”

Blaise jumped up and began to pace. Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise; Blaise was usually the calm one.

“Listen, Draco, just because you and Charlotte are head over arse about each other doesn’t mean it’s all going to be fucking rainbows and unicorns for Hermione and me. It’s all pretend! How the fuck am I going to… to… to touch her, hold her… fucking _kiss_ her when we’re all together, then go home at the end of the night as if nothing’s happened? How am I going to let her go when she decides Ginny’s got the hint and we can fake break up? I’m no fucking Gryffindor, in case you haven’t noticed. I won’t have the balls to try to hold onto her. I’ll fucking chicken out and let her go… I fucking know I will!”

Draco stood and gripped Blaise by the shoulders. “Stop, mate. Just stop. You won’t lose her because I won’t bloody let you. We both loved Granger in school and we were too close to let her come between us. Think about it; we both thought enough of each other that we wouldn’t let our friendship suffer over a girl. Charlotte is it for me, Blaise. And if Hermione Granger can make you feel even a _fraction_ of how my mouthy ladette with her killer fringe and fuck you attitude makes me feel… well, I won’t let you lose her. I swear it, alright? All you have to do is be yourself. 

“Granger wouldn’t have even entertained this idea of fake dating if she didn’t think she could go through with it, okay? Obviously you’ll have to look cosy together and liplock in public. There’s no way she’d agree to that with you if she thought you repulsive, like she does Theo. No matter how desperate she is, there’s no way she’d touch you if she didn’t want to. You’re practically halfway there, mate. Now you just have to be the man that I’m proud to call my best friend and we’ll be measuring you up for wedding robes in no time.”

“That was some speech.”

“I didn’t even practise. It was totally off the cuff.”


	2. Chapter 2

"I wrote a list."

Hermione stepped out of the Floo, smiling at Blaise as he reclined on the couch. She chuckled to herself — Evanescence was playing. Not a band she would normally listen to, but her surprise at Blaise's choice of Muggle music overrode her desire to tell him to change it.

She'd left him two nights prior with a promise to return so they could start the getting to know each other process. And she made the most of that time listing all of her favourite things.

Plus some extra information...

"Of course you did." Blaise took the offered parchment from her and began unrolling it. He glanced up at her, his eyes wide; it was about four feet long. "Is this your entire life?"

"Don't be a smart arse." Hermione flopped onto the couch beside him. "These are just basic things you should know."

Blaise scanned the list. " _Ri-ight_. Just the basics."

"What's the problem?"

"Your favourite season is winter. It makes sense I would know that. But your favourite nail polish is called _Espresso Your Style._ That's not something I would have the slightest interest in."

Hermione sat up and glared at him. "To make this work, to make it believable, we need to know everything, Blaise. _Everything_. Do you get that?"

"Granger, we've not even set a time we've supposedly been together. If we're going with a few weeks, I would hardly know anything about you, we'd still be learning stuff. If we decide on a few months, maybe I would know more. But a nail polish colour? I would _never_ know that. Men don't care about that shit."

"Oh. Right." Hermione shot him an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I'm just… I don't know. Nervous? I mean, we're lying to our friends — for good reason — but we still have to make it believable."

"And we will." Blaise squeezed her thigh, making her jump. " _That_ , Granger, is what will make them all not believe this is a thing. The fact I don't know that your—" he glanced quickly at the parchment "—great grandmother's name was Matilda, isn't going to cause an issue. But you jumping at my touch will."

She looked at his hand on her thigh. "Sorry, I wasn't ready for you to do that."

"And that's the problem. If we're going to pull this off, we have to be close. Lovers do this kind of thing." He nodded at his hand which was still resting on her thigh. "They touch each other without flinching. They whisper sweet nothings, they look at each other like they're the only ones in the room. And they share a certain familiarity with each other because of the intimacy they share."

"Intimacy?" Hermione felt her face heat up.

"Yes, Granger. Intimacy." Blaise stood and held his hand out. Hermione took it and he pulled her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. "We need more than a list to make this work."

Hermione stiffened. " _Ah_ , what are you suggesting?"

"We need to become accustomed to each other." He slipped his other arm around her and began to sway. Hermione moved with him, her hands fisting his shirt to keep her balance. "I'm going to touch you, Granger." He leaned forward, his lips close to her ear. "I'm going to whisper all kinds of things to you. I'm going to call you _darling_."

Hermione's breath hitched at the warmth of his breath, at the sound of him calling her darling. _Holy shit._ It wasn't supposed to be like this. Blaise was supposed to be joking like he always did, not turning her insides to jelly.

"And you'll have to do the same." He lifted his head and smiled down at her. "You'll have to look for me when I'm not close to you. _You'll_ have to touch _me_ , and lean up and whisper in my ear. Can you do that?"

"I think so."

Blaise stopped moving. "You _think_ so?"

"This isn't easy for me. I don't like lying to my friends, but I'm more concerned about you having Ginny after you than lying to them. So it's confusing. And it's been forever since I even went on a date with a guy, let alone anything else, so—"

Blaise cut her off, his mouth pressing against hers, capturing her surprised gasp. His lips were firm, kissing her in a manner that felt like more than just a game. He pulled away, then paused, leaning back in to kiss her quickly once more.

"Are you calm now?"

Hermione nodded. It was all she could do. A fake kiss shouldn't have felt like that.

"Good." He stepped away from her. "That's a start, but we have to make sure you don't flinch or seize up every time I touch you. You definitely need more practise."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed a little breathlessly. "More practise."

"Dinner first though." He headed for the kitchen, chuckling over his shoulder as she stood staring at him in a daze. "I made gnocchi, I hope you're hungry."

* * *

It had been just over a week since Hermione and Blaise had decided to start their fake dating charade. After their last meeting, he had made a list of his likes and interests and returned it to her, and she'd memorised it fairly easily. She was actually surprised at how much they had in common — she'd always expected they'd be like night and day.

While he was clearly the flirty extrovert who loved parties and spending time with friends, there were some parts to him that he kept well-hidden. He loved to travel and explore new places, trying the local cuisines and learning about the history, both Muggle and magical. He'd been through most of Europe already and to a few places in Asia. Other than one wasted trip to Australia she hadn't gone anywhere after the war, and she was jealous of his travels.

When she'd read that he loved theatre and preferred wine to firewhisky, she started imagining what a real date with him would be like. Immediately, she had to remind herself that this wasn't real. There would be no real dates — just Harry's birthday party and mutual protection from Ginny and Theo. There was no sense in imagining dates or trips or anything else. Blaise had never shown an interest in her and she had seen the women he usually dated. They were her polar opposite.

_But that kiss._

It seemed so real, like he had been longing to kiss her and was finally taking his chance. She felt her heart speed up at the memory of it, of the way his lips had felt against hers.

And the way he'd said _darling_ made her toes curl. She wasn't sure she'd be able to remember they were faking it if he talked to her in that tone.

Refocusing on the present — on the mission at hand — Hermione grabbed her handbag and checked her reflection in the mirror. She was due to meet Blaise in less than ten minutes and, even though she wasn't trying to impress him, she still wanted to look nice. He was always so put together.

Today, they were putting the second part of their plan in motion. Blaise had suggested that they practise snuggling up close, touching, and — _Merlin_ — even more kissing. She'd felt uncomfortable about it before but, now that she almost felt intrigued by his personality _and_ was physically attracted to him, Hermione thought it was a recipe for disaster.

What if she actually enjoyed the practise and it was nothing more to him?

As she stood in front of her Floo, shifting from foot to foot, her stomach was churning with nerves and she hesitated to take the final step into the grate. When her clock chimed noon, she had no choice — she threw the Floo powder in, took a deep breath, stepped forward, and then shouted Blaise's address.

* * *

The moment Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, Blaise rose from his armchair and moved towards her. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. She unintentionally stiffened again.

"And _that_ is exactly why we need to practise," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath skating over her skin and making her even more aware of his proximity.

She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. "I get it, Blaise. I need to be more comfortable with you. It's just not easy for me."

"I understand," he said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. I'm just nervous, I think."

"Let's have a glass of wine and relax a bit. I saw that _Brunello di Montalcino_ is your favourite, so I picked some up," he replied. "I promise I'm not going to grope you or anything like that."

A laugh escaped her lips. "Okay. Wine and no groping. Got it."

As Blaise stepped away, she wasn't sure if she should follow him or not. Deciding that they'd likely be spending time in the main living area, she stayed put, looking out at the view she'd fallen in love with during her first visit. It was sunny and stiflingly hot in London, but the bright light streaming in lifted her mood. She could imagine curling up on the couch and just watching the world go by.

"You can sit down," Blaise teased when he re-entered the room. "I don't usually make my guests stand in one spot for their whole visit."

Hermione felt her cheeks heat. "I just got caught up looking out again. This really is beautiful. I'm envious."

He handed her one of the glasses he was carrying and dropped his free hand to the small of her back, guiding her closer to the windows. For the first time, she didn't flinch or stiffen at his touch.

When they stopped in front of the tall panes, she sipped her wine, and Blaise mirrored her.

"I read your list," she began. "We actually have a lot in common."

Blaise nodded. "We do. Surprising, isn't it?"

"It is. I wonder why we never realised it. We've been around each other enough since Harry and Pansy got together," Hermione replied.

With a shrug, he turned back to the window. "We never really sought each other out to talk. If we had, we'd likely be closer friends by now."

Hermione didn't answer. They stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, Blaise's thumb stroking along her lower spine. She hadn't even noticed that he'd never moved his hand away until she felt the gentle movements.

"So how long have we been together?" he asked.

"Do you think a month would be believable?"

He moved closer, wrapping his arm fully around her waist. "We could make that work. It's not too sudden and not too long."

Trying to settle comfortably into his side, Hermione leaned her head against his shoulder. "Okay. A month, then." After a moment, she added, "When is your next trip?"

She felt him swallow a sip of wine and realised just how aware of his body she was.

"Trip?" he replied, the sound rumbling through his chest.

She tilted her head up towards him. "Yes. You travel a lot. I saw the list of places you've been since the war."

"Ah, yes. I don't have anything planned right now," he answered. "I hate travelling during the summer. Everything is far too crowded since kids are on holiday."

"Makes sense," she murmured before finishing off her glass.

Blaise took it from her hand. "Do you want more?"

Shaking her head, she made her way to the couch and sat down. "I don't think we should drink too much."

He positioned himself beside her, setting the glasses down on the coffee table in front of them. After she'd sat down, she'd rested her hands in her lap. Blaise had grabbed the nearest one and laced his fingers through hers, bringing it to his lips. While he gently kissed her hand, she desperately wanted him to kiss her properly again.

Looking directly at him, she saw a smirk raising the corners of his lips. Her gaze flickered between his eyes and his lips as she tried to find the courage to kiss him or, at the very least, ask him to kiss her.

Blaise must have been reading her mind because, mere seconds later, he dropped her hand, cupped her jaw, and kissed her again.

And it was even better than she remembered.

As his tongue licked along her lower lip, she opened for him, wanting him to deepen the kiss. A week ago, their tongues had stayed firmly in their own mouths, so this was new. When his fingers tangled in her hair, she wanted to climb into his lap. Instead, she broke the kiss and looked at him questioningly.

"That was… Do you always kiss like that?"

Blaise sighed. "I don't know. Maybe? I've never kissed myself before." After a pause, he added, "You didn't seem to mind."

"I didn't," Hermione said, her mouth moving faster than her brain. "It's the best kiss I've had in ages."

Again, he smirked at her. "Well, lucky you. You get a couple more weeks of kisses like that."

"Lucky me," she murmured.

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her into his side. "So, let's talk about our lists, Granger. I'm assuming you want to quiz me to see if I've read yours."

Hermione's brain was still fried from the kiss. "Um, yeah. Definitely. You start. Ask me about something that was on your list."

"Hmmm. Let's start with something easy. I saw your favourite subject at Hogwarts was Arithmancy. What was mine?" he asked.

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to remember what he'd written down, but all she could focus on was the warmth of his body against hers and the scent of his cologne. Fuck, he smelled so good.

"Ancient Runes," she replied, finally recalling what had been on the parchment. "Where do my parents live?"

She felt his sharp inhale. "Australia," he said softly. "You sent them there during the war to keep them safe."

Hermione nodded and angled towards him, grabbing the hand that had been casually resting on his knee and holding it. "Go on. Ask me another."

Blaise thought for a moment. "What part of Italy did I grow up in?"

"Lake Como. Your mother's… third or fourth husband lived there," she replied. "And he actually lived the longest out of all of them." Laughing, he gestured for her to continue. "What is my favourite color?"

"That's an easy one. It's green, Granger. Other than your Gryffindor shit, half your wardrobe is green and you always write in green ink. I'm surprised you didn't ask the hat to put you in Slytherin just so you could be in the green house." Without missing a beat, he continued, "Where do I work?"

"Gringotts, liasing with the Goblins and handling foreign transactions, mainly with Italy. What about me?"

Blaise kissed the top of her head. "You work at the Ministry in the Department of Mysteries as an Arithmancer, but you'd much rather design new spells."

"That wasn't on my list," Hermione said, turning to face him. "How do you know about that?"

Blaise looked sheepish. "I might have overheard you talking to Pansy about it. I think you'd do very well, by the way."

Hermione's heart opened the tiniest bit, and she did something she hadn't been planning on — she kissed him simply because she wanted to.

* * *

"Ms Granger, are you ready?"

Hermione almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of the now familiar voice. She'd been so engrossed in her work, she'd not seen him enter the room. Nor was she even expecting him.

"Blaise? What are you doing here?"

He smiled and her heart gave a tiny leap. How would she ever give this man up?

"I'm here to take you to lunch," he said. "You do eat lunch, right?"

" _Oh…_ _ah…_ usually I just, um…"

"She mostly eats at her desk," the voice in the next cubicle explained. "Too busy to have lunch with anyone. Especially deliciously hot strangers."

Hermione's cheeks tinged pink. "Thanks, Alfie," she muttered.

His blond head popped up over the partition between their desk, a wicked grin split his face. "You're welcome, sweetheart. And if you say no to him, I'll take your place."

Her young colleague eye-fucked Blaise from head to toe, his tongue licking his lips salaciously.

"Blonds just aren't my type, mate," Blaise informed him with a chuckle. "Brunettes with mad curls and gorgeous, intelligent eyes are my weakness."

Hermione's blush deepened. _Hades on a broomstick, what was he doing?_

"Are you ready?" Blaise smiled once more and she thought the heat in her cheeks would explode her face.

"I guess," she muttered, stacking the parchment she was working on neatly on her desk. Standing, she balked at his offered arm and shot him a withering glare.

Blaise winked and leaned in close, whispering, "Let's give them something to talk about."

"Are you serious?" she hissed. "This will spread like wildfire and everyone will know before the weekend."

"No, everyone will just _assume_ something, and lunch is something lovers do, is it not?" He grinned then raised his voice. "So lunch?"

"Can I _assume_ you're taking me some place other than the Ministry cafeteria?" Hermione arched an eyebrow at him.

"The cafeteria is fine. And since Alfie has outed you as a desk-lunch jockey and I _know_ you're a workaholic, you won't want to go too far."

"Oh, just stay here," Alfie rolled his eyes. "I'll take your place since gorgeous hunks render you stupid."

"Maybe he's right," Blaise sighed. "Alfie, you want to have lunch with me?"

Alfie winked at him. "Honey, I'll do anything with you."

"Gah!" Hermione jabbed a finger in Alfie's direction. "Sit down and mind your business." She turned back to Blaise. "I will have lunch with you, just not _here_. Okay?"

A flicker of concern flashed across his face, but he nodded and held out his arm. "Very well, Ms Granger, I know the perfect place."

Blaise chuckled and wrapped his arm around her waist, Hermione stumbling into him as he Disapparated them the instant she curled her hand around his elbow.

"Is this why you didn't want to eat at work? You wanted to ravage me?"

"Blaise!" Hermione was becoming more exasperated with him — although she wasn't sure if it was because she _did_ want to ravage him or because he was being ridiculous. Lunches weren't a part of the agreement.

"Hermione, sweetheart, I told you lovers do this. They meet for lunch, they—" he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck "—kiss."

He dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her right there in the middle of the street. And it was another of _those_ kisses. The ones that had her waking in the middle of the night, in a pool of sweat, and crying out his name.

And she kissed him back. She couldn't stop herself if she tried. It was a perk of this arrangement she was now having very little trouble with. It felt natural to kiss him, like she was meant to kiss him.

Like she was meant to kiss him forever.

But she wouldn't be kissing him forever. It would be a few months at most.

She broke away from his mouth, expecting him to release his hand from her neck. But he simply stood there, holding her, staring straight into her eyes. Her heart stuttered. His face held an expression that spoke more than their kiss ever could.

Lust. Longing. Need.

She was certain if they were sharing this kiss in her house or his flat, they wouldn't be standing upright.

"Blaise… I—"

" _Ah_! Blaise!" An Italian accented voice broke the spell and Blaise stepped away. "Amico mio, come stai?"

Blaise held Hermione's gaze for a second longer before turning and acknowledging the owner of the voice. "Luca! Sto bene. E tu?"

Hermione listened as the two men conversed in Italian. Blaise's friend was clearly the owner of the little bistro behind them, _Rustico_. It was compact but modern, holding maybe twenty people at once. The large window to the front allowed the light to brighten the interior, making the bistro feel instantly warm and welcoming.

"This is my friend Hermione." Blaise took her hand, pulling her towards him. "Hermione, this is Luca. An old family friend."

"It's lovely to meet you, Luca."

"Ciao bella, il piacere è mio." He leaned in and kissed both her cheeks, then laughed at her expression. "I said, the pleasure is mine, beautiful."

Hermione laughed with him, her cheeks burning. "I understood the beautiful part, the rest was a blur."

"And I think _friend_ is not true." Luca clapped Blaise on the shoulder. "Why are you hiding her?"

"He's not hiding me," Hermione assured him. "Blaise and I are just—"

"We've only just started going out," Blaise interrupted. "And I don't need you stealing her from me."

Luca shook his head. "Not a chance. She's in love with you. Her eyes tell me. Now, come in and eat."

Blaise didn't give Hermione the chance to protest, ushering her inside, and sitting at a table away from the window.

"What was that?" she asked when they were finally seated.

"His family owns this place, and I've been friends with them all since I was born. If we can convince them we're together, everyone else will be a breeze." He reached across the table and linked their fingers. "But apparently you've already done that. Your eyes told him."

Hermione looked away, hoping her eyes said nothing of the sort. This was fake. _Fake_. A ruse to save them both from two hideous people. She didn't need her eyes telling anyone anything different.

Even if her eyes were telling the truth.

"You okay, Granger?"

"Fine," she lied. "I just didn't think that being introduced to your friends was a part of this deal."

Blaise grinned. "Well, best you get used to it. If I've only got you for the next few months, I plan to make the most of it. I'll be showing you off as often as I can."

* * *

"What was I thinking?" Blaise muttered to himself when he arrived back at his office.

Despite his brave face at lunch, despite his laughter and thinly veiled innuendos, his heart felt like it had been eviscerated.

_I just didn't think that being introduced to your friends was a part of this deal._

Her words had stung.

He was arse over tit in love, but his hopes of Hermione Granger reciprocating his feelings were diminishing by the day.

She had become so at ease with him, accepting his touches, his kisses, without protest. And he knew he wasn't imagining things in the way she kissed him back. Or kissed him of her own volition. Those feelings were hard to hide.

He thought he'd begun to recognise the same feelings in her, but Hermione's reaction to him turning up to take her to lunch, to introducing her to his life-long friends, had been jarring. Clearly this was just a means to an end.

He sat heavily at his desk, leaning his head in his hands. This was all too hard. Too much. He couldn't keep pretending — not for the months they would have to. He couldn't spend time with her without feeling the things he was. His heart couldn't take it.

Why did he agree to this? What madness had taken over his brain that allowed him to even consider that being with her in this capacity would be a good idea?

His feelings for her hadn't disappeared over the years. They ran in different circles, only occasionally turning up at the same event. And every one of those times his emotions flared and he went home miserable. And he would usually find solace the next day at the bistro he'd taken her to. Giovanni, Valentina, and Luca understood why he was there and would always distract him with mad stories of home.

But today…

Luca had known instantly who she was, and Blaise was decidedly pleased Hermione didn't speak Italian. Their discussion had been entirely about her, Luca entirely too excited that he'd brought her there. Blaise had quickly explained the situation, but Luca had been unable to help himself.

_She's in love with you. Her eyes tell me_.

Draco was right. This was Hermione Granger. The woman Blaise had been in love with since he first saw her at school. He wasn't giving upon her, he wouldn't let himself.

And if Luca saw something in her eyes, then he still held hope that she was hiding her true feelings and was, in fact, as deeply in love with him as he was with her.


	3. Chapter 3

When Blaise stepped through her Floo on Saturday evening, he was smiling, and Hermione felt a genuine surge of happiness rush through her. As his eyes took in the dress she was wearing to the party, she suspected that he was actually imagining it on the floor of his flat, but there was no way to be sure. Eventually peeling his gaze away, he stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her sweetly.

"You look gorgeous," he said, his forehead leaning against hers.

Surprisingly enough, Hermione had managed to become completely comfortable with his touch and found herself missing it when he wasn't around. From the gentlest graze of his fingers along her arm to the kisses that sent heat straight to her core, she loved it all.

She just wasn't sure if he was still faking it or not, and she was finding herself uncharacteristically afraid to ask him.

A moment later, she murmured, "Thank you. July is just so hot. I wanted to be comfortable."

Blaise's hand travelled up her spine, landing on the bare upper half of her back. She felt him grab the strings that held the top of her dress up and wind them around his fingers. "I like this a lot," he began. "That shade of green is a lovely colour on you."

While she tried to formulate a response, she nuzzled her face into his neck, breathing in the cologne that she was becoming infatuated with. It only made her brain fog more; her longing for him was becoming nearly tangible.

"Thank you," Hermione said again, and she could hear the lust in her own voice. She cleared her throat and took a step back. "We should probably go. It's nearly time."

His smile faltered, but he nodded and took her hand. "I'm sure Potter and Pansy won't mind if we're a bit early. Are you planning on wearing shoes?"

Mortified, Hermione looked down at her bare feet. "Um, yes, I was. Give me a moment."

As she retreated down the hallway, her face aflame, she heard Blaise chuckling to himself. When she looked in her wardrobe, she found the sandals she'd been planning to wear and slid them on her feet, cursing herself for being so caught up and so stupid. How could she have forgotten to put on shoes before moving towards the Floo?

_Oh, right, because I'm infatuated with Blaise and behaving like Lav-Lav in sixth year. Brilliant idea, Hermione. Pretend to date a bloke who's so attractive and sweet, and smells so great that you can't possibly resist him._

After checking her reflection once more, she made her way back to the living room. Blaise was standing in front of the Floo, his shoulder leaning casually against her hearth. "That's better," he teased. "I wasn't sure if you were just so comfortable at Grimmauld Place that you didn't feel like bothering with shoes."

"Well, I'm assuming we'll overflow into the garden. Also, since there will be a good amount of people there, I think it would probably be better if I did…" Hermione trailed off. "Does everything look alright? We're going to end up in a showdown with Ginny, I'm sure, and she'll come after any little flaw."

"You're perfect," he praised. "There is absolutely nothing I'd change about the way you look in that dress."

Hermione felt the blush spreading across her cheeks. "Okay. Thank you," she said, flustered. "Is there anything else we should discuss before we go? Like what time we're leaving or—"

Blaise cut her ramble off with a kiss. "Let's just go with the flow and see where the night takes us. We don't need to have a plan for everything."

He released her but offered his arm, reaching towards the jar of Floo powder with his free hand. She took it without hesitation, though she was terrified of improvising the whole night.

Before he tossed the Floo powder, Blaise smiled. "It's going to be fine, Hermione. We're comfortable with each other. It's felt natural to be with you. No one will be able to tell that we're not a real couple."

Even though he was smiling, she heard his tone shift to something a little less jovial when he said they weren't a real couple. Nodding in response, she took a step forward and shouted, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

* * *

As soon as they stepped through the Floo together, Pansy spotted them. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't approach. Blaise noticed Theo standing beside Pansy and released Hermione's arm. His hand fell on the small of her back and guided her further into the house.

"Do you want to talk to Pansy now?" he asked.

Shaking her head, Hermione replied, "Let's try to find Harry first since it's his birthday. He'll also be less in our face about the whole thing."

Hermione gave Pansy a little wave and moved through the house, towards the door to the back garden. Thankfully, it had been a beautiful day and there was no rain in the forecast for the night. As they walked down the steps, she scanned the crowd. There were several male Weasleys scattered about, but Harry wasn't with any of them.

When her eyes fell on the barbeque, she saw Malfoy's blond head and a messy dark-haired man next to him. Blaise seemed to find them at the same time since he started leading her in their general direction.

"What do you think Malfoy will say?" Hermione asked.

Blaise laughed. "Trust me, he won't care. He'll barely even notice us as soon as Charlotte reappears."

His comment did nothing to put her nerves at ease, which was ridiculous because it didn't matter what anyone thought — this was a temporary relationship. It wasn't real.

"Happy Birthday, Potter," Blaise greeted, letting go to give Harry a hug.

Harry looked taken aback, his eyes jumping back and forth between them. Hermione just smiled, not giving anything away before Harry embraced her.

While he was hugging her tightly, she said, "Happy Birthday. It's good to see so many people came."

"This is all Pansy," he replied with a shrug. "You know me. I'm not one for lots of attention."

"Speaking of Ms Parkinson," Blaise began. "Your better half is inside chatting up Theo Nott. You may want to intervene."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, she wanted to set him up with Hermione, so I don't think I have anything to worry about."

Smirking, Draco said, "It looks like Granger arrived with Zabini, or did you not notice that his arm was around her?"

With a glance between Hermione and Blaise, Harry asked, "Are you here together? Or did you just run into each other on your way out?"

"We're here together." Hermione took a deep breath before continuing, "We've been seeing each other for a month or so. We just wanted to keep it between us for a bit."

"Well, I think that's wonderful," Draco replied, looking pointedly at Harry.

Oblivious as ever, Harry blurted, "Why didn't you tell us when you were on about Ginny? Seems like that would've been the right time."

Blaise stepped in. "We weren't ready to tell anyone yet, Potter. We decided this would be the perfect way to show everyone we're a couple so we don't have to explain it over and—"

He was interrupted by an irate Pansy. "Well, it appears I'm just in time to hear how this lovely little coupling came about." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're two of my closest friends and _neither_ of you thought to mention you were in a relationship?"

"Oh, we thought about it," Blaise responded. "We just chose not to. And, if everyone would stop interrupting, we'd tell you how we started all this."

Surveying everyone around her, Hermione noticed Draco was smirking, Pansy was glaring, and Harry just looked flat-out confused. Blaise was calm and collected even though both Harry and Pansy seemed upset for one reason or another.

"Well, go on!" Pansy urged, waving a hand at Blaise.

Ignoring the command, Blaise stepped closer to Hermione and kissed the top of her head before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Well, we ran into each other at Gringotts. I was leaving work, she was coming in to make a withdrawal… It's all rather boring. We decided to have dinner together to catch up—"

"Catch up?" Harry asked. "It's not like you really knew each other before."

With a sweet smile, Hermione said, "That didn't matter. We were acquainted, both from school and from the two of you getting together. I wanted to know more about him."

"And I've always been interested in her," Blaise replied, looking to Draco for support.

After a moment, Draco snapped out of his stupor. "Oh! Right, yes, Blaise has always wanted to get in Granger's knickers. Even when we were in school." His eyes tracked someone across the room. "Charlotte's just come in. I'm going to say hello."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "More like you're going to push her against the back of the house and snog her senseless. You can't keep your hands off her."

"It's that filthy mouth of hers," he replied, calling over his shoulders as he walked towards the bar. "I just can't get enough of it."

Hermione thought about commenting but decided against it. She knew that Draco was likely referring to the way Charlotte would tell literally anyone how it was — complete with a full range of curse words from cunt to cockwomble — at the drop of a hat, but her mind was truly in the gutter tonight.

She blamed Blaise and his kisses. He'd been building her up all week, sending scorching heat straight to her core. But she hadn't let herself touch him or say that she wanted — or needed — more.

"So you had dinner?" Pansy prompted. Hermione nodded. "And then you fucked?"

"No!" they shouted in unison.

After a moment, Blaise started speaking again. "No, I asked her if we could meet up for dinner again in a few days. I wasn't looking to shag her after one meal. I won't do that with someone I'm actually interested in."

At his words, Hermione's heart sped up. Maybe that was why he hadn't initiated anything more between them? Because he actually wanted more than just a human shield from Ginny and a quick shag?

"And we decided that taking it slowly was the best option," Hermione added. "It's part of the reason we kept it secret for so long."

"What. The. Actual. Fuck?!"

Ginny's voice was a near screech from the doorway, and Blaise wrapped his arm tightly around Hermione. She could take care of herself, but was grateful for the protection; Ginny looked like she was about to burst into flame.

"Are you fucking kidding, Granger?"

She was storming across the garden and Hermione had the distinct feeling she might need the assistance of Harry's Auror mates, going by the fury on Ginny's face.

"You stole my man, you bitch!"

"Hey!" Pansy gripped Ginny's arm as she raised it making Hermione wince away. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Don't touch me, Parkinson!" Ginny wrenched her arm free and turned on Pansy. "You stole my man as well. I guess it's why you're such good friends. Filthy whores stick together, _don't they_?"

"Ginny." Bill had made his way over and put a firm hand on his sister's shoulder. Hermione breathed a little easier — Bill was the only Weasley who stood up to Ginny. "This is not the time nor the place to make a scene. And your language is disgraceful."

"Shut the fuck up, Bill!" Ginny almost screamed. "You should be on my side. You're my brother and this _whore_ stole my man!"

"She is not a whore." Blaise's voice had dropped so low the tone had become sinister and Ginny actually took a step back. "I dare you to say it again."

Recovering slightly, Ginny curled her lip at him. "Slut then? A slut who stole my man."

Neither Blaise or Hermione got the chance to react. The sound of Pansy's hand connecting with Ginny's cheek was loud in the silence around them. The entire party was watching the scene, and Hermione could see the looks of glee on some of the faces surrounding them. Ginny Weasley was _finally_ getting her own.

"He's not your man. He never was and, thanks to Granger, he never will be." Pansy spat the words furiously at her. "You are a spoiled, ungrateful piece of shit, Ginny. You're only here because Harry is too kind to _not_ invite you and you're too stupid to realise it. You lost him not because I stole him. You lost him because you're selfish and treated him like total shit."

Harry held up his hand. "It's okay, Pansy—"

"Nothing about this is okay, Harry. She waltzes in here like she's the queen of fucking everything, makes a scene, and then insults me and our friend? What the hell is _okay_ about that?" Pansy moved closer, staring her down. "You talk about whores and sluts… how many men at this party have _you_ fucked? How many men _not_ at this party have you fucked? Wizards rely on you more than the Knight Bus when they need a ride. And you've taken the name of one of the most well respected families in our world and turned it to trash. If I was a Weasley, I'd change my name. I wouldn't want to be associated with you in any way."

Ginny's eyes darted to Bill, who held his hands up in a clear indication that he agreed with Pansy.

"You are not the queen, Ginny, you're barely the scum beneath the queen's shoes." Pansy stepped back and nodded towards Hermione. "If you were even half the woman she is, you might have had a chance with Blaise. But you're not in her league. Not by a long shot."

Ginny's eyes filled with tears and her hand was covering the reddening swell on her cheek. "I… I… I've done… nothing wrong. Everyone… hates me."

"Oh, give it a rest, Ginny." Hermione glared at her with utter disgust. "Everyone here knows you can cry on cue. You do it every time you don't get your way. You're twenty-three. It's time you grew up."

" _It's time you grew up,"_ Ginny mimicked childishly, her tears having dried up instantly. "You're not my mother."

"No. But I am," Molly said in a voice Hermione — and everyone else — knew all too well. Molly Weasley was angry. Avada Bellatrix Lestrange angry. "You will hush your voice this instant, Ginevra."

Ginny spun around and Hermione didn't have to see her face to know her expression would be one of sad, puppy dog eyes, and the tears would surely begin again. Molly and Arthur had never seen Ginny in this light. She'd always managed to play the sweet, innocent virgin — an act that had just seen its final performance.

But surprisingly it was Arthur who spoke.

"Pansy is right, young lady." Arthur's voice wasn't the usual pleasant, jovial tenor she was used to. He was angry, his tone a firm growl and he was easily as angry as Molly. "You _are_ a disgrace to the Weasley name. We've spoiled you for far too long."

"But Da-ad," Ginny whined. "That's my Blaisey. She took him away from me."

"Hermione did nothing of the sort! She's a good and decent person, unlike the ill-behaved shrew I unfortunately raised." Molly grabbed her daughter's arm and spun her around. "You need to apologise."

Ginny's face took on a look of stubborn incredulity. Hermione was well aware she was shocked that everyone was suddenly standing up to her, but she also knew it was too late. Ginny's temper would never allow her to apologise.

"I won't apologise when I'm right." Ginny folded her arms across her chest. "I won't apologise for whores and sluts stealing what's mine. I won't—"

Her eyes went wide and her body slowly began to tilt backwards as the body bind took hold.

"Take her home before she embarrasses us further," George said, his wand held in Ginny's direction, shocking everyone. He was usually a champion of his sister's antics, finding her temper highly amusing. But clearly he'd also had enough. "And leave her like that for a while. Let her think about what she's done."

"Harry, dear." Molly hugged Harry as Arthur caught Ginny, stopping her from falling to the grass. Although, Hermione was sure everyone would have forgiven him if he'd stepped aside. "We understand now. And we're sorry."

Harry simply nodded, shaking Arthur's hand and thanking them both for coming, and Hermione watched as his shoulders finally relaxed when they disappeared with a pop. The break up with Ginny had been messy, and Molly and Arthur had been critical of him. But in one fell swoop, their daughter had changed their opinions.

"Sorry about the interruption, folks." Harry smiled awkwardly at everyone. "But let's not forget there's a party to be had."

He flicked his wand and the air was filled with music. Hermione recognised it instantly — The Killers, Harry's favourite band — and the guests began to turn away from them.

Blaise pulled her to him, hugging her tightly. "Sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," she told him. "She needs to learn to control her temper. And I think, finally, Molly and Arthur have realised what they raised."

"A screeching harpy?"

"Exactly… Blaisey." She glanced up at him, grinning cheekily.

"No," he said firmly. "My grandmother called me Blaisey. And I hated my grandmother."

"Yeah," Pansy agreed. "Nonna Zabini was… actually, you saw an excellent impersonation of Blaise's grandmother just now."

Hermione laughed. "That bad, yeah?"

"The flashback was so bad that I need a drink. A strong one." Blaise released her from his bear hug, but linked their hands. His smile told her he wasn't letting her go any time soon. "Come on, Draco probably needs us to rescue him by now."

* * *

Draco had only made it to the bar when the screaming theatrics began, managing a quick glimpse at his fiancée before they turned around to observe the youngest Weasley making — what Charlotte would undoubtedly call — a complete twat of herself.

He didn't even have time to say hello properly as they were then joined by Blaise and Hermione, both in need of a drink following Ginny's scene. With no barman in sight, however, Blaise summoned two cold bottles of Muggle beer from a nearby large black garden trug filled with magically bubbling iced water.

"Hey, Charlotte," Hermione greeted her newest friend, hugging the witch warmly.

Now that she was engaged to Draco, Pansy and Hermione made sure to include Charlotte in all their gatherings. Initially they were both surprised by Draco's choice of witch but, as time went on, they saw how happy he was — how Charlotte seemed to be the complete opposite, yet the most perfect accompaniment. She was as feisty as Pansy and _almost_ as clever as Hermione, and — had she attended Hogwarts — she would have been Sorted straight into Slytherin. There was no doubt about that.

"Not every birthday party goes like this," Hermione continued. "They're usually a lot more civilised. Although there was one a few years ago at the Burrow where Ronald thought it would be a great idea to turn Molly's new water feature into a jacuzzi for the garden gnomes. But, instead of conjuring oxygen for the bubbles, he ended up with helium. You can guess the rest."

"One screeching Weasley is bad enough," Charlotte replied, grinning. "The thoughts of all of them? Fucking hell! Can you imagine? Oh, my Blaisey, my Blaisey!" Her impression of Ginny's high-pitched wailing had her companions in knots of laughter.

"Oh, my!" Hermione cried, wiping her eyes and catching her breath. "I shouldn't... that was... hilarious!"

"I don't think I want to hear my name again… ever," Blaise moaned, although he was highly amused by Charlotte's mimicking of the second-most annoying Weasley — Ron taking top spot, of course. "Time to change it to something less inclined to have 'e' shoved onto the end of it. Something normal… like…"

"Louis?" Draco suggested. "There's already an 'e' at the end so it can't be extended to Lou-ee-ee. Although if you met up with Chavender Brown again, she could call you Lulu."

"Mate," Blaise replied.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck off."

Hermione quickly hugged Charlotte again, the two witches still laughing, as Blaise pulled her away from the bar, glaring at a grinning Draco as he passed by. His best friend, in true mature pureblood style, stuck out his tongue.

Charlotte turned back to the bar, examining her nails as she tapped her fingers on the wood — their painted design this week paying homage to her favourite Quidditch team, the Emirate Gunners.

"Well," Draco began, standing closer to her. "Let's try this again. Hello… Charlotte."

Other wizards would use various terms of endearment when addressing their witches, sweet words that would soak through knickers faster than a Snitch on Pepper-Up Potion. For Charlotte, it was the way Draco said her name. His aristocratic air, the perfect way he pronounced his words, the sex appeal that seemed to ooze from his pores when he spoke to her… all of it drove her wild.

"Fucker!" she hissed under her breath, glancing sideways at him through her glasses. "You know what that does to me."

In return, Draco absolutely adored his cockney witch. If he was a teenage girl reading smutty fiction, she'd be the bad boy, full of attitude and riding a Harley. _Fuck!_ He'd even sit behind her wearing a patched cut that stated 'Property of Charlotte' across the back.

And he'd love it.

"I do," he agreed. "Why do you think I do it?"

Charlotte leaned in closer. "And will you call me by my name later on when you're fucking me into your silk bedsheets?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow whilst reaching out to take her glass. He slowly brought it to his lips, his eyes not leaving hers.

Charlotte watched his tongue flick out to lick the part of the glass she'd already touched with her lips, her eyes widening as he sipped a small amount of the drink. It was the most sensual—

Suddenly Draco was coughing and spluttering all over her, his eyes watering as he tried not to make a scene.

Tried and failed.

"You fucking cockwomble!" Charlotte laughed hysterically at his panicked expression. She quickly cast a _Notice-Me-Not_. "Didn't you see what I was drinking? It's called a Fantasy Fulfilled, chilli salt is put around the rim of the glass. Rog's been making them for everyone."

Draco's caught his breath, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a monogrammed handkerchief.

"Who the fuck is Rog?" he spat, literally, the taste of chilli making him gag. His aristocratic airs were suddenly gone in a puff of jealousy.

"He's the barman," Charlotte replied. "Who did you think he was?!"

Draco looked around, not seeing anyone serving drinks. "There's no one here," he replied stupidly.

"Well, duh! He's gone for a smoke."

"How do you know?"

"Because he fucking told me! What the—"

"Why was he talking to you?"

"Because I was standing at the bar, you dick! You don't see me barging in when you're chatting to Harry and making a tit of myself. We have Ginny for that. I was waiting here until… no, you know what? Fuck you, Draco Malfoy. If I want to chat to the barman, I bloody will!"

"Charl—"

"Oh, no!" She grabbed her tote from the bar. "You don't get to do that and think I'll cave, Draco Malfoy."

Before he could answer, the barman returned to his post, the stench of Muggle cigarettes wafting around him, and Draco looked him up and down. Rog was, at least, fifty with his hair shaved tight to hide his bald patch and a rather stout physique. He looked like… well, the complete opposite of a Malfoy.

"Nothin' like a fag and a quick hit and miss*. Fancy a drink, Char— Oi, where'd ya go?"

Charlotte didn't take her glaring stare away from Draco as she spoke. "Why not, Rog? And you can show me your diving photos, if you like. I'd love to see them."

Draco sneered, his eyes narrowing at her. "He can't see you, remember? You cast a _Notice-Me-Not_ , Charlotte."

Bollocks! She'd forgotten.

"Why are you being such a fucking cunt?"

"Because, Charlotte, I'm a Malfoy. I'm selfish. I hate seeing you talking to other men—"

"It's part of my job, Draco."

"That's different," he replied quickly. "I know I have no say in that. But here? Here, I want to hold you near me at all times." He pulled her towards him, wrapping her tightly in his arms. They held each other's gaze again but, this time, their expressions softened. "I could hardly wait for you to arrive, my stomach was in knots. I want to let everyone know you're mine." He leaned down to kiss her tenderly. "I want everyone to see how much I love you, and have every intention of _Avada-ing_ anyone who even looks at you the wrong way. You're everything to me, Charlotte Bailiwick, and the thoughts of some bloody barman chatting you up… fuck…"

A long nail in the red and white colours of the Gunners scrapped gently across Draco's bottom lip. "I have no interest in any barman, Draco," she whispered. "I only wet my knickers for you."

"That came out wrong, didn't it?"

"So fucking wrong."

He reached up to run his fingers through her hair. "How about I take you home and… what was it you said? Fuck you into my silk sheets?"

Charlotte stepped back quickly, grabbing his hand, and walking away from the rest of the party. She came, she was seen by the birthday boy… job done. Time to go.

"Oh, I think you can do that, Draco. But one thing."

"What?" He grinned.

"Touch my fringe and you're fucking dead."

* * *

Blaise had hardly left her side all night. He'd played the role perfectly. A little too perfectly. He'd kissed her, whispered in her ear, brushed his fingers over the back of her neck as they talked to their friends. At one point — while talking with Pansy — his hand wandered down her back, coming to rest on the curve of her arse.

It had taken her breath away.

And everywhere he touched her after that left a heavy ache. An ache that was becoming harder and harder to bear.

"You okay there, Granger?" he whispered in her ear. "You're all flushed."

His arm was curled firmly around her waist and his breath was warm against her skin causing her to shiver. "I'm fine. I might have had a little too much wine."

Blaise smiled against her cheek. "You've only had three glasses, I think there might be something else on your mind."

_You. Naked. In my bed._

"Nothing really." She ran her fingers along his forearm, grateful it was wrapped around her, anchoring her and stopping her from fleeing — embarrassed — because she wanted more. "Have we convinced them?"

"Everyone is absolutely convinced we're a couple. It's not possible they would believe anything else." He kissed the side of her throat and whispered, "But that's not what's bothering you."

Pansy saved her from having to respond. "Seriously you two, get a room. This PDA thing is nauseating."

"Get used to it, Pans." Blaise kissed Hermione's shoulder and his arms held her tighter. "Now I've got her, I'm never letting her go."

"Gag," Pansy choked but Hermione didn't miss the sparkle of delight in her friend's eyes.

"You're only jealous that you and Harry aren't still all loved up." Ron said and winked at his own date. The woman of the month had been introduced as Meghan. Dark hair, flawless skin, beautiful in a way that took hours. And a complete gold digger. She'd skipped across the pond after finishing school at Ilvermorny, thinking she'd get a good job in the Ministry if she hooked up with one of the men who were considered princes in Wizarding society. And since Harry was taken, Ron would do. He would eventually figure it out but they'd have to watch once more as a woman, who was only after his fame, took over his life.

"Harry and I were never this bad." Pansy nodded towards them. "I've thought about throwing a bucket of cold water on them several times tonight."

They all laughed and the conversation turned to when Pansy and Harry first got together. Hermione smiled and laughed along, but her mind was barely able to concentrate on more than the warm body pressed against her back and the strong arms wrapped around her.

And she asked herself for the millionth time since she sat on his doorstep and concocted this plan; how would she give him up?

She thought she was seeing signs that he was interested in more, but she'd never been good at following those signs. She always managed to get it all wrong. And she didn't want to get it wrong here. Blaise was nothing like she'd imagined. He'd always been the joker, never seeming to take anything seriously. As she'd gotten to know him, however, she'd found a hard working, highly intelligent, generous, and kind man. She could talk to him, laugh with him, and had felt completely comfortable just sitting quietly with him.

He caused butterflies to take flight in her stomach every time she saw him. She missed him on the evenings they'd not eaten dinner together. She craved his warm body beside her in her bed.

But this was just a game. Ginny wasn't the only one who decided Blaise was for her. She'd noticed the sideways glances all night. Women were drawn to him. Beautiful women with much more to offer. Even Ron's date had given him the once over. How could she compete?

"Did you want another drink?" Blaise asked. "Or is three glasses enough?"

"Funny," Hermione said with a playful roll of her eyes — despite her feeling anything but playful. "But, maybe just some water."

He kissed her once more then looked at Pansy. "Pans, don't let anyone steal her while I'm gone."

"Vomit." Pansy gagged again but smiled as he walked towards the bar. "You've pissed off a lot of women tonight, Granger. Not just Weasley."

"Why's that?" Hermione asked, glancing around.

"That man is off the market." Pansy fling her arm around Hermione's shoulders. "I never thought it'd be you, but he's arse over tits in love. And I'm pretty sure it's the same for you."

Hermione dropped her eyes to the ground amidst the chuckles of her friends.

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Harry said cheerfully. "Don't be embarrassed. We're all happy for you both."

She glanced back up and smiled. Blaise was heading back towards them, his eyes focused solely on her.

What had she been thinking? It wasn't only her heart that would be broken in all of this, her friends were already invested in them — in _fake_ them — and Ginny's tantrum might be mild compared to the one Pansy would inflict on her when she and Blaise 'split up'.

Blaise handed her the glass then stood beside Hermione, his arm sliding around her back, and his hand coming to rest on her hip. He leaned close and whispered, "I'll ask you again, are you okay?"

She peered up at him, a fake smile plastered on her face. "And I'll tell you again, I'm fine."

He frowned, then nodded, turning his attention back to their friends.

_An hour,_ she told herself. _One more hour then she could leave._

One more hour and she could curl into her bed and wonder why she ever thought Blaise Zabini wasn't someone she could fall in love with.


	4. Chapter 4

The second they arrived in her flat, Hermione's pulse sped up. They'd had a good time together at the party and everyone had believed their story.

Hell, even she'd started to believe it.

Every time Blaise touched her, she felt sparks. When he kissed her, she felt a fire building inside of her — one that could turn into an inferno if left unchecked.

His hand sat low on her hip — basically over the side of her knickers — for most of the night. If he'd moved it just a couple of inches, his fingertips would've been right where she wanted them.

"Well," he began, "I guess this is goodnight. Thank you for being my date and protecting me from the Weasel Queen."

"Pansy took care of most of it, honestly. I just stood there when Ginny came in."

Blaise tucked her hair behind her ear. "Pansy may have been the one to bitch slap her, but you were by my side. If you hadn't been, Ginny might have actually _touched me_."

He pretended to shudder and she laughed. Despite the jokes, she still felt melancholy and really didn't want him to leave.

He lifted her hand to his lips. "Goodnight, Hermione. I'll meet you for lunch this week. Keep up the pretense and all."

Their hands stretched between them as he stepped back and, knowing it was now or never, Hermione decided to take a chance. She wouldn't have felt like it was real if he wasn't at all interested, right? There was no way he was that skilled in acting.

"Blaise…" her voice wavered. "I… don't…"

He turned to face her, his eyes full of the need she felt. "You don't…?"

"I… I don't want you to leave."

He stared at her, not moving, and her heart sank. She'd read this all wrong. He was known to be a ladies' man. He probably acted more interested than he actually was regularly.

Thinking quickly, she tried to take it all back. "Sorry. You can leave. I didn't—"

His mouth was on hers before she could say anything else. His arms wrapped around her waist and she felt herself being forced backwards, Blaise's body guiding them. The wall in the hallway stopped them, but the kiss never ended.

When his hands traveled down to her arse and squeezed, she finally broke away.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. "I don't want you to feel like you have to—"

It seemed Blaise liked cutting her off with kisses, content to swallow her anxious ramblings rather than listen to them. His tongue worked its way into her mouth and he lifted her up, pinning her to the wall with his hips. Feeling him rock hard against the apex of her thighs, the fire inside of her blazed hotter.

At the thought, she nearly giggled. _Blazed_.

As Hermione wrapped her legs around him, he used one hand to pull the front of her skirt up, leaving only her wet knickers and his trousers between them.

Tentatively, she ground against Blaise's bulge, wanting to show him she was eager and more than willing. His teeth captured her lower lip, nipping at it gently.

"Patience, darling," he murmured after he'd released it, breaking their kiss. "We don't want this to be over too soon."

"I've had patience all week," she complained. "I'm done waiting. I need you."

"And you'll have me." He pressed her against his body more firmly. "Bedroom at the end of the hall?"

"Yes," she sighed, relief coursing through her at the thought of Blaise in her bed.

As he walked — slower than she would've liked — her mouth landed on his neck, kissing and sucking and nibbling at his skin. When he tried to set her down on the bed, Hermione refused to let go, hanging onto him like he would disappear if they stopped touching.

He leaned forward until her back hit the mattress, his hand cradling the back of her head to soften the impact. Gripping her hair, he held her still, taking control. He pulled away slightly, looking down before he started kissing her again. Slowly, he moved from her lips to her neck, working his way to her ear.

When he reached it, he whispered, "I've wanted to fuck you since we were sixteen. I'm going to do it properly." He paused, releasing his warm breath against the shell of her ear. "I'm going to make you come more than once before I have my fun."

Hermione's toes curled and the flickering flames she'd felt all week were stoked into something much more powerful. Despite the heat she felt, his words made her shiver in anticipation.

"Please," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Blaise's hands found hers and pried them from his shoulders, his fingers lacing through hers. "You have to let me move. We've got clothing to sort out before I can bury myself inside you."

"I can vanish it."

Shaking his head, he released her hands. "No. I want to do this." He kissed her sweetly. "I want to take in every inch of your body as I undress you." Another kiss. "I want to touch you and taste you until you're on the verge of losing your mind."

When he pulled away, Hermione allowed him to stand. Her legs were still loosely looped around his waist and he chuckled.

"Let's start with getting rid of these heels," he said, his hand reaching for one of her calves.

After removing both her shoes, Blaise unbuttoned his shirt sleeves, his eyes never leaving Hermione. She expected his hands to move to the buttons along the front of his shirt next, but they didn't. Instead, he slowly rolled his sleeves up and she watched as his forearms were revealed inch by inch.

"You're blushing," he said, his voice low. "Why are you blushing?"

She couldn't find the words to say. He was gorgeous standing at the edge of the bed, looking at her like she was a goddess he was about to worship.

"So quiet, darling. Why don't we see if I can change that?"

He dropped to his knees beside the bed and grabbed her thighs, pulling her so her hips were right at the edge, his body between them. Pressing her elbows into the mattress, Hermione sat up, eager to watch him.

His hands travelled up her inner thighs, pressing firmly and making her squirm. When they ventured under her skirt, she thought that he might actually touch her. His thumbs grazed the lace edging of her knickers, but that was it; his hands slid back down towards her knees again.

Blaise's hands repeated the same path a few times, teasing her for a fraction of a second longer on each journey to her centre. The whole time, his eyes remained locked on hers, the intimacy between them growing with each passing second. Finally, she timed it just right and moved her hips as his thumbs touched her. It increased the pressure marginally and she hissed out a breath.

"I haven't heard you make any noise yet."

Hermione groaned and let herself fall back to the bed. "Blaise, stop teasing me."

"I'm not teasing," he said, moving his mouth to the inside of her knee and kissing the skin there. "I'm here." He kissed a little higher. "I'm touching you." A kiss at mid-thigh after his head disappeared under her skirt. "My lips are on you." Just a bit further. "I'm taking my time." His tongue ran along the centre of her knickers.

"Holy fuck," she blurted out, and he did it again.

When she felt him pull back, she pushed herself up once more, ready to take control. But then he mirrored his torment on her other thigh and, as she watched him, she could feel herself getting more and more aroused, her breaths growing shallower with each touch of his lips to her skin.

When he reached her knickers again, he licked at the edge of them once before his hands grabbed the sides. Hermione lifted her hips and shifted her legs, helping Blaise to remove the bit of satin and lace. He pushed her skirt up, completely baring her lower half to him, and draped her legs over his shoulders.

"Remember, I want to hear you, darling."

And then his tongue was teasing her, lightly grazing over her when she wanted so much _more_.

She rolled her hips and he pulled back, frustrating her.

"More," she said. "I need more."

In response to her plea, he sucked gently on her clit and hummed, the gentle vibrations making her jerk.

"Ahh, you like that," he observed aloud. "Again?"

"Please."

He sucked harder this time and her legs trembled. When he felt the gentle shaking, he hummed again, and she cried out.

A finger worked its way inside her, alternately sliding and crooking and twisting, working in tandem with his mouth. Hermione's hands gripped the comforter on her bed as her body temperature increased, the fire within her roaring.

She was moaning and panting and babbling nonsense — anything to give him the noise he wanted to hear and keep his tongue on her. As her orgasm grew nearer, her thighs started trying to close, tightly squeezing his head. He didn't seem to notice, let alone care.

When she screamed and shook, her cunt gripping his fingers and her hips rocking against his face, he kept going, devouring her until she'd calmed again.

With one final gentle suck, Blaise rose to his feet, grabbed her hands, and pulled her to sit up straight. Cupping her face, he kissed her hard. Hermione was still nearly breathless, but she didn't pull away; she loved that he was so focused on her.

Moving quickly, she unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his trousers, letting them fall to the floor. She felt him toeing his shoes and socks off before he stepped out of the trousers. His hand moved from her face to the back of her dress, feeling around in vain for a zipper. She broke the kiss and said, "No zip or anything. Just untie it and tug it off over my head."

He pulled the strings he'd played with earlier, releasing the knot, and grabbed the hem of the dress and did just that, further messing her hair and making her laugh. Once it was off, she stood and started dealing with his buttons. "You know, you could've taken this off from the beginning and saved me the trouble," she teased, looking over every inch of skin she'd revealed and tentatively touching him.

Blaise hummed as her fingers ran over his chest. "Well, you seem to be enjoying yourself right now."

"I am." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him again, her hands grabbing both sides of his shirt and slowly sliding it off his shoulders. "I'm so glad that you wanted this too."

"For longer than you'll ever know, Hermione," he said, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra.

Biting her lip, she slid her hand into the waistband of his shorts, her fingers brushing against his cock. His eyes fluttered at her gentle touch, prompting her to do it again.

"So what do you want?" she whispered as she wrapped her hand around him and stroked up and down slowly.

Blaise pulled her hand away and slid his shorts down, leaving no barriers between them. As he lifted her, he said, "You. I just want you, darling. No one else."

Somehow, he maneuvered them onto the bed, laying her back against the pillows as he knelt between her thighs. Hermione reached for him — an invitation — and he lowered himself down, bracing himself on his forearms so his full body weight wasn't on top of her.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.

Silencing her with a kiss, he notched himself at her entrance, not sliding inside of her just yet. His tongue stroked against hers slowly, enticing her. As the kiss grew more passionate, she rocked her hips up and he met her movement, naturally gliding into her and starting to move slowly.

Hermione hummed with pleasure when he stretched and filled her. Moving her hands to his back, she gently raked her nails up and down his spine. His answering groan prompted her to do it again.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he said, finally breaking the kiss.

Hermione inhaled deeply, shuddering at his words. "No. _We_ feel amazing. Together."

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled him deeper and he buried his face in her neck, dropping gentle kisses on her skin. "You're right. It's definitely _us_."

"I've known we would all week," she confessed. "I've wanted this so badly. It's been my little secret."

As they moved together, their hands and lips explored every bit of skin they could reach, learning each other. Just as she suspected, the heat built between them quickly, their movements growing more urgent. Knowing he liked to hear her, Hermione didn't stifle any of her cries or thoughts.

Blaise grabbed one of her thighs and hitched it higher, changing the angle just enough to make a difference. Her cunt squeezed and fluttered around him.

"Oh, gods," she moaned. "Don't stop."

Blaise leaned forward, kissing her hard before he snaked his hand between them to rub her clit. "Come for me, darling. I want to hear you and feel you."

Her mind went blank, his words and fingers pushing her fully over the edge. The sounds of her climax filled the room and her hands landed on Blaise's arse, gripping him as he continued to rock into her.

"So good," she murmured as she came down. "This is so good."

Blaise kissed her again, his lips gentle against hers as his movements slowed. His hands fell to her hips, holding tight as he flipped them over.

Hermione sat up and started to take control, rolling and circling her hips. His eyes were fixed on her, watching every movement.

"You're like my fantasy come to life," he said, his palms traveling from her hips to her ribs and finally landing on her breasts. "I can't wait to explore every inch of you."

"I can't wait, either," she answered breathily.

Blaise squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't think I can last much longer. Especially if I'm watching you."

Hermione leaned down, her hands pressing against his shoulders. "It's fine. We have all night. Even if anyone happened to Floo over, it's not like this is some big secret."

He looked into her eyes and nodded. "Please tell me that's not actually a possibility," he said, his hips starting to move faster to meet hers.

Hermione laughed.

"Gods, you're so gorgeous when you smile."

"I think everyone realised we were leaving for a reason," she answered before kissing him.

Groaning into her mouth, Blaise moved his hands to her arse, grabbing and guiding her movements. He was desperate for her, desperate to come. When he felt her start to tremble again, he knew he had to hold on just a little bit longer.

He would do anything for her pleasure.

Much to his surprise, one of Hermione's hands left him, moving down to touch herself. He broke the kiss so he could look up into her eyes. They were dark and clouded with lust and he got lost in them. When her movements started to falter, he took over completely, not wanting anything to change for her.

When she cried out, he finally let go, unable to withstand her body clenching around him once more. As he came, his magic surged through him, happy to finally be joined with the woman he'd coveted since he was a mere horny teenager.

Hermione settled her head on his chest, perfectly content to stay on top of him as they both settled. After dropping a gentle kiss to her curls, he wrapped both his arms around her again, hoping that this moment would last forever.

* * *

"Blaise?"

A quiet female voice beckoned him from sleep, but he didn't want to move. She laughed, and the sound was so sweet.

"Blaise, come on, wake up."

A small, warm, very naked body tried to spoon him, one leg finding its way over his hip. And then her lips were on his shoulder, moving up towards his neck. When she reached his ear, she whispered, "If you don't get up now, I'm going to take a shower on my own and there will be no morning sex for you."

Immediately, his eyes popped open and he took in his surroundings, remembering the previous night's events.

He was in Hermione Granger's bed. Naked. With her. And they'd had sex.

And she was offering him morning sex.

"Don't you dare leave this bed," he grumbled, feigning drowsiness as he started to roll over.

Once he'd made it to his back, she slid on top of him, straddling his hips like she had the night before. He looked up, examining her face. She was smiling — no, smirking — at him.

"I knew that would get your attention," she teased. "I just wanted to kiss you, though."

Blaise reached for her, pulling her down to his lips. The morning-messy curls fell around their faces in a curtain and he smiled as they kissed. It was easy and slow and he found he didn't even care if there was sex in his immediate future or not.

This was perfection. It was everything he could want in this life.

* * *

**A YEAR AND A HALF LATER…**

"I have a confession to make." Blaise was holding Hermione's hand tightly and grinning like a fool. "Eighteen months ago, Hermione concocted a plan. It was the most insane thing she's done to date. But that one insane thing became the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Hermione smiled up at him. It was nearing Christmas and they were finally celebrating their engagement. Blaise had proposed a week after her birthday but, with their busy schedules, they had only just found time to celebrate. They had also discussed if they should reveal their secret, and decided it would be funny if they did.

Draco was still the only one who knew and, with neither Ginny or Theo speaking to them — something neither of them had done since Harry's party — they thought it safe to come clean.

"Hermione and I were never actually together. Potter's party… it was all fake—"

"I knew it!" Pansy yelled, pointing her finger at Hermione.

"Oh, you did not." Hermione laughed at the look of indignation on her friend's face. "You would have been telling everyone if you knew. Secrets aren't your forte, Pans."

"I can keep a secret," Pansy huffed and Harry looped his arm around her shoulders, winking knowingly at Hermione.

"It was all fake," Blaise continued. "Until it wasn't." He paused and took a deep breath. "I agreed to be her fake boyfriend because I was so in love with her. I've been in love with her since I was sixteen and I saw it as my chance to spend time with her and win her over. I consider myself fortunate beyond my wildest imaginings that Hermione Granger said _yes_ when I asked her to be my wife."

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him. "There was no other response to that question."

A collective sigh — albeit decidedly female — went around the room as Blaise leaned down and kissed her.

"Now, I know you're all expecting us to announce a date for this wedding tonight — that seems to be what happens at these things — but this engagement is going to be a little longer than is usual. Before we _officially_ become a duo—" he smiled at Hermione, watching as she removed the concealment charm, revealing the growing bump she could no longer hide "—we will become a trio. The second of May to be exact."

A moment of stunned silence followed Blaise's announcement then loud cheers erupted and Hermione found herself engulfed by Pansy.

"Our babies will grow up together!"

" _Our_ babies?" Hermione asked, glancing at Harry who was shaking his head.

"Oops." Pansy winced. "Secrets really aren't my forte."

"No, Pans, they really aren't." Hermione laughed and glanced at Blaise. "That's our thing."

* * *

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental.

*Hit and Miss: Cockney rhyming slang for piss


End file.
